


The Werehouse

by RandomFandomJasper



Category: Original Work
Genre: FUCK, Originally Posted on Tumblr, how to tag, i usually only post fanfiction here, original writing - Freeform, what the fuck do i do with this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28450698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomFandomJasper/pseuds/RandomFandomJasper
Summary: So. There was a Tumblr post. There was a Tumblr post with this pun about someone turning into a house under the full moon (werehouse, warehouse, it's funny).I saw the post--which was the universe's mistake, not mine--and I took the damn prompt (which obviously wasn't meant to be taken seriously) and fuckin' ran with it, because God may have made my life a joke but I'm gonna make it a funny one.Anyhoo, it was requested that this get put on Ao3, so now it's here! Enjoy! Or don't! I don't control your life.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	The Werehouse

**Author's Note:**

> Do not look at me, I do not wish to be perceived. If you know me from Tumblr, no you don't.
> 
> Here's the post, btw:
> 
> https://writing-prompts-re.tumblr.com/post/638322740703674368/since-you-were-born-your-parents-have-attempted
> 
> And if you don't wanna go through the trouble of working around the link (I know it can be a pain in the ass sometimes, I just wanted to make sure I put credit where credit is due) here's the prompt:
> 
> Since you were born, your parents have attempted to stop you from going out during full moons. At the age of 17, curiosity overwhelms you and you sneak out during one. You take one look at the moon and suddenly you transform into a small wooden cabin. You are a werehouse.

My parents had been good people, if a little odd. They had strange rules, but they were fair about them, and only really enforced the _one_ with any kind of rigidity. Be in bed by eight, but I could stay up reading if I chose. I had to keep the blinds curtains closed in my room, but only a week out of each month. Any other time, it was perfectly fine to keep them open, apparently.

The one rule I couldn’t break, however, was the one that I had always been so desperate to break. _Never go out during a full moon._

Why? They never told me. Not even in the days before their passing, their bodies succumbing to a sickness we couldn’t name, and couldn’t treat. It’d been so lonely after that. It still is, most days, but you learn to work around the grief.

I’d kept the curtains drawn for months afterwards, and the doors locked. I hardly even went outside, though I loved the wilderness so dearly, but I couldn’t bear to see it. Grief is a funny thing. Stealing away the things that make you happy right when you need them most.

It eased, though, as the weather grew frigid with winter. Time heals, as everyone knows, and I began to let the sunlight back into the house. _My_ house. My very _empty_ house.

And I let the moonlight in, too.

I’m not sure when I noticed it but, all at once, I felt the strong urge to leave the house. Glancing outside, I could see that the moon was very nearly full. _Strange,_ I had thought, _this is usually when mother would have me draw my curtains at night._

Part of me wanted to close the curtains, if only to satisfy whatever child in me felt obligated to obey my parents.

But it was still so _empty_ in the house. Overwhelmingly so. And if the moonlight wanted to keep me company, well, I wasn’t exactly going to complain. Besides, I’d just turned seventeen, barely considered a child.

The urge to escape my house grew stronger in the weeks leading up to the full moon. Although, could one really call it escaping if the only thing that held you was a memory? Nevertheless, my resolve to stay inside snapped the night the moon fully rounded.

I donned my coat and boots and stole away into the night. It felt taboo, despite the fact that I was very much my own keeper. The wind stung my face, and my footsteps crunched the snow so noisily that I was sure the whole forest could hear me, but it was... freeing, in a way.

After all, what did I have left to lose?

It was only after half an hour of walking when I realized that I should head home before something heard me. I started to turn and go back the way I came, back to an empty house, when _I_ heard something _else._

Perhaps it was stupid of me to follow the sound, especially since it sounded distinctly canine and _injured,_ but when the inside of your heart is just as cold as your skin in winter, you find yourself unbothered by much.

An injured wild animal? A threat, to be sure, and some instinctive voice told me so, but I largely did not care. And while I couldn’t say I was _surprised_ to see the wolf, I had to admit I _was_ surprised to see it was so small. A wolf pup without a mother, in the middle winter, no less, was very vulnerable.

Especially with its leg caught in that ugly-looking snare.

It whimpered and barked and even attempted to growl at me, but I still struggled to feel one way or the other about it. On the one hand, it _was_ a wolf, but on the other hand... it looked _very_ hurt.

And scared.

Alone.

I closed my eyes and sighed, tipping my head back to let the snowflakes fall on my face. What pulled me out to the forest? What urged me to leave the safety of my home to walk through the snow? Was it spite? Something else? Perhaps I had hoped something terrible _would_ happen, to prove my parents right.

Instead, I had this.

This wolf pup, injured and helpless, and it _needed_ someone. Anyone.

I opened my eyes, nearly blinded by the full moon. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever looked directly at it before. Safe to assume that I hadn’t, what with my parents keeping me in, but the sight tugged tears from my watery, wind-stung eyes.

I felt walls that I’d built around myself come crumbling down, my foundations shaking with emotions I hadn’t let myself feel in months, heart swinging open like a door begging to let someone in.

This wolf pup wasn’t staying here alone, I decided, and I wasn’t going back to an empty house.

“Alright,” I knelt next to the pup, ignoring the way its barks increased in pitch, “let’s get you out of this, yeah?”

I took off my coat and set it in the snow beside me. A security blanket for when I got the pup out. It snapped at me as I gently took hold of its scruff, trying to keep it as still as I could so I could set it free.

Of course it tried to scramble away as soon as I loosed the snare, but I held it firm. “Calm down, you. Won’t make it far on that leg.” I grabbed my coat and wrapped it tightly around the pup, both to keep it from biting me and to make sure it didn’t hurt itself further.

The walk back home seemed much shorter, most likely because of the urgency starting to tug at the back of my mind. My father had taught me all sorts of first aid. Keeping out infections, proper bandaging, how to set a broken bone, if need be.

I’d grumbled about the lessons at the time but, in that moment, I would have thanked him if I could.

I shed my hat and boots upon entering the house, but left my gloves. I had a feeling I’d need them for the panicked pup in my arms. “Home, sweet home,” I mumbled as I rummaged through the cabinet of medicinal things. Various herbs and oils and ointments that my mother had been kind enough to label.

I’d thank her to, if she were able to hear it.

Finally gathering the supplies I needed, I sat in my father’s chair and held the pup tight to my chest. “I need you to quiet down now, alright? Can't hardly think straight with your yapping.”

It growled at me in response. Obviously, it meant to be threatening, but it was so small and weak that I could only chuckle a bit. “Yeah, go ahead, growl at me if it makes you feel better.”

Carefully, I pulled its leg from my coat, holding it firmly so that it couldn’t kick out at me. It wriggled a bit, and I shifted my grip to hold it tighter.

“This will only hurt for a moment,” I promised. “Then I’ll get this wrapped. Might be able to find something for you to eat afterwords, yeah?”

The wolf stilled at that. I raised an eyebrow, debating whether or not I should be concerned that the wolf had apparently understood me. That, or it decided to stop fighting me at a very coincidental time.

I decided not to look the gift horse in the mouth and set to work on its leg.

It whimpered when I cleaned the wound, squirming like it was trying to escape the pain without actually moving. I sympathized. “I know it stings, but I’m almost done.” I set the rag aside and reached for the ointment my parents used to prevent infections. “See? Now we just need a little of this, and we can get you bandaged up.”

As promised, after the pup was bandaged, I searched for something for it to eat. Thankfully, I had some venison stored away, perfect for a hungry little wolf pup.

“Slow down,” I said softly. “Gonna choke, and then what? Saved you for nothing.”

Then came the part I _hadn’t_ thought ahead for, which was where I’d be keeping the pup for the night. Luckily for me, the problem solved itself as I sat by the fireplace. The wolf pup curled into my coat and promptly fell asleep after eating.

Suited me fine, except that I was stuck for the night.

The wolf would have to go back outside eventually, but I figured that I could deal with _that_ problem in the morning.

And I most certainly _did_ have to deal with a problem in the morning, but it wasn’t the problem I was expecting.

I hadn’t exactly prepared to wake up to blond hair tickling my face.

It took a full minute of blinking the sleep from my eyes before I realized, “Oh... oh, this is _not_ a wolf.” It _had_ been a wolf, I was sure of it. When I had finally slipped off to a sleep, I had definitely been holding a wolf.

A wolf that had somehow transformed into a boy of about six.

“Werewolf,” I breathed. “I’m holding a werewolf. Oh. This is- okay.” I carefully stood, awkwardly holding the child still bundled in my coat. “Fine. He’s a werewolf. But he’s a kid, right? He’s just a kid. I can handle this. Uh...”

I walked to my room unsteadily, fighting off the urge to wake the child and demand answers he probably didn’t have. First, I needed to find him some clothes that _weren’t_ my coat. And probably fix his bandages, as he appeared to have... outgrown them.

He stirred at some point between the living room and my room. “G’mornin’.”

“Mornin’,” I replied. “You... look a little different than you did last night.”

“I need to find my mom,” he muttered sleepily.

I nodded. “Uh-huh. Can do, just- clothes first, yeah? You ain’t a wolf anymore, so. Gotta find something warm.” I set him on my bed and looked through some of my older clothes. They’d be too big, but they’d have to do. “You have a name?”

“Thomas,” the boy yawned. “My mom’s gonna be worried.”

“I bet,” I said, pulling out a long-sleeved shirt and some old trousers. “I’d be worried to, if I lost my son in the snow like that.”

Thomas was quiet while I helped him dress, looking thoughtful. “Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“That trap hurt.”

“Awful things, aren’t they?” I tugged the shirt over his head and picked him up again. “Better re-wrap that before I take you to your mother.”

He made a face. “Is it gonna hurt again?”

“Shouldn’t,” I promised. “Just gonna put a little more ointment on it and a few more bandages.” He nodded and let me carry him back to the living room. I was still wrapping my head around the fact that I was casually conversing with a werewolf, but Thomas seemed unbothered by me knowing, so I deciding to roll with his calm.

I could only hope his mother shared the same sentiment.

As I started walking through the forest with Thomas on my back, I realized that _this_ must have been the reason my parents never let me outside during a full moon. The stories one heard about werewolves were never kind ones.

Thomas squirmed excitedly when we came to the spot I’d found him. A harried looking woman was pacing around the area, her eyes catching me and widening.

“Your leg,” I reminded Thomas. He immediately stilled, but still bounced happily and called to his mother.

"Thomas!” She ran to me and scooped Thomas off my back. “Where did you go? I was so _worried_ about you!” She eyed the bloodied snare, then turned her gaze to me. “Did you...?”

I swallowed. “I didn’t set the trap, but... I _did_ find him. Here. And I couldn’t bear to leave him.” I wrung my hands. “I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t realize he was... you know.”

Her eyes softened. “Thank you,” she said. “Hard to come by folks who care about creatures like us.”

“Creatures... plural?” I asked tentatively. “Are there... more? Like you?”

“Lots!” Thomas exclaimed happily.

I didn’t know whether to be amused or nervous. “Ah. Well, if you ever need a hand with... anything, I’m- I’m just down thataway a bit.” I jerked a thumb behind me. “I’m sure Thomas could show you where.”

“Thank you kindly.”

“Hell, tell your friends, I... I’ve got time to spare. And the space,” I rambled. “Any of you folks need a hand around the full moon, just- y’all just come my way.”

Thomas tugged his mother’s scarf. “Can we?”

I wasn’t even sure why I was offering. Maybe because the idea of not being completely alone at least once a month was more appealing than waiting out the rest of my years in silence. Or maybe it was because helping Thomas had filled a hole in my heart where my parents used to be.

The mother hesitated. “If... you’re _absolutely_ sure.”

“Ma’am, I promise you, nothing would make me happier.”

She took me up on the offer. The next month there were two wolves on my doorstep, one that I knew to be Thomas, and the other I could only assume to be his mother.

They didn’t stay long, but I appreciated the visit nonetheless.

Moons passed, and I met more wolves. Occasionally, I even met the humans behind them, more than a few returning to my house to thank me for whatever little thing I helped them with. A thorn in the paw, a change of clothes, if they didn’t make it home in time, and even a midnight snack if I had the meat to spare.

It felt like I was home for the first time in a _very_ long time. The full moon still urged me outside, and I heard my parents’ warnings every time I walked beneath the moonbeams, no doubt to keep me safe from the wolves that roamed the night.

But the thing I think most people forget about werewolves is that they are very much human. More human than they are wolf, and just as kind as any other person I’d ever met.

I’m not sure how far the rumor spread, how many wolves knew my house, or how many towns the word had reached, but my lonely place in the woods was forever labeled. Affectionately, of course. It was so empty most of the time, and so ordinary.

But once a month, under the light of the full moon, it was more than that. Once a month, it transformed-- _I_ transformed--into a home for many. Grief turned into kindness, and loneliness into a safe haven.

Folks called me The Werehouse.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. Yep. You can laugh, it's okay. I'm a dumbass that spent two hours working a joke prompt, I give y'all full permission to hit me with a stick if you ever see me in person. This exists and that is your problem now, lmao, I await my public execution.


End file.
